


History of the Fifth Clan

by DuplexBeGreat



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Book Series: A Vision of Shadows, Book Series: Dawn of the Clans, Gen, Mythology - Freeform, Secrets of the Clans, Shattered Sky, The First Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22556587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuplexBeGreat/pseuds/DuplexBeGreat
Summary: Thunder, Shadow, Wind, River. Long ago, these legendary cats came together in the aftermath of a terrible battle, and, with guidance from their ancestors, created the four warrior Clans that have lasted until this day. This is how it has always been—how the story has always been told.But the arrival of SkyClan at the lake has changed everything, and no tradition, no matter how old, is safe from the curiosity of a kit. In her quest to find answers, the ShadowClan queen Snowbird will learn the terrible truth behind the dawn of the Clans—and face the reality that sometimes, the truth may not be enough.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	History of the Fifth Clan

_The story of the beginning of the warrior Clans_

_has been passed down by cats of all Clans, from elder to warrior,_

_from warrior to apprentice, from queen to kit. The story_

_is never the same twice, and parts grow uncertain,_

_or they become suddenly clear in the telling. There are some cats_

_who walk dimly, their names and deeds lost in the sweet fog_

_of the elders’ den, for the warrior Clans have roamed_

_the forest for moons beyond counting. . . ._

_Secrets of the Clans_ , page 1.

  
  


“Settle down, now,” Snowbird murmured, whisking her tail gently. “We’ve got a long journey to make tomorrow.”

Beside her, in the nest, the kits gazed back with wide, excited eyes. Though they’d stopped their play-fight momentarily, all three were still fidgeting, clearly not quite ready to sleep. 

Conekit, the one tom in the litter, let out a small squeal of anticipation. “We’re going back to ShadowClan!”

Calmly, Snowbird brushed a paw against him. “Yes. We’re going home. The Clans have defeated Darktail and his rogues, and it’s safe for us to go back to our camp now.”

“Are Blossomfall’s kits coming, too?” Gullkit asked, eyes round.

Snowbird shook her head. “Blossomfall is a ThunderClan warrior. She and her kits are staying here, with the rest of ThunderClan.”

Quickly she glanced across the nursery at the tortoiseshell queen’s nest. Blossomfall and her litter of four were already fast asleep, but if her own kits kept playing much longer, they were liable to wake some of them up.

Fortunately, Snowbird knew just what to do. This wasn’t her first litter. It was, in fact, her third.

“Would you like to hear a story, before we go to bed?”

All three kits nodded in unison, their eyes riveted on her.

With a sweep of her soft, white tail, Snowbird gathered the kits in to her belly. She let her mind drift easily back to the tale she’d heard and told so many times before, and the words began to flow freely from her mouth.

Long ago, before the Clans came to the lake, before Rowanstar or Oakfur or any cats alive today were born, so long ago that some say even StarClan has only heard the story, cats began to gather in the Forest.

These cats were not warriors. They did not follow a code. They hunted in small groups, or alone. Some were friends, and some were adversaries. When cats fought, blood was spilled, but nothing was ever achieved. No cat knew who to trust, and prey was shared rarely if at all.

The time came when a meeting was called, in the center of the forest, at the clearing ringed by four great oaks. The cats met beneath the light of a full moon, but the scene it illuminated was not a peaceful one. Yowls of anger and accusation rang out, and soon claws were unsheathed. The battle had begun.

How long it lasted, no cat can say. But when the fighting had ended, and the dead lay scattered about the clearing like pieces of prey, none of the survivors knew what to do next. Many had lost kin. Few had ever killed another cat before. Whatever they had come to accomplish, it wasn’t this.

Before their eyes, the air around the bodies of their fallen comrades began to shimmer and glow. Like sunlight dancing on the surface of water, starry-pelted cats formed one by one, until they surrounded those still living. Their fur bore none of the claw-marks of the battle that had taken their lives, and though they spoke with stern wisdom, there was no anger in their voices.

Slowly the living cats began to listen as the spirits delivered their message: This must never happen again.

The living cats understood, and believed they knew what needed to be done. To prevent such horrifying conflict from breaking out again, they would unite. No longer would they hunt only for themselves. The cats who slept and fought beside them would become as important as their own kin, and by joining together, they would have nothing to fear from passing loners.

But a question still remained: Who would lead this new group? One cat believed she knew the answer.

Nestled near her belly, Conekit stirred, his jaws parting eagerly. “I know! You told us that Shadow was the first cat who spoke up. She was the first leader of ShadowClan, and she was stealthier, smarter, and better at night hunting than any other cat!”

“Yes, that’s right,” Snowbird purred. “But Shadow wasn’t the only cat who thought she should be leader.”

From the other side of the crowd of cats, a silver tabby tom let out a soft sniff of dismissal. “I do not trust what I cannot see,” he said. “I am River. I am cautious and steady like the great waters that flow through the forest. I would make a finer leader than Shadow.”

“No cat has the patience for your laziness,” muttered a brown she-cat. “A leader should be quick-thinking. My name is Wind, because I am faster than any cat alive. Let me lead.”

One more cat added his name to those arguing for the title of leader.

Gullkit wrinkled her nose. “Thunder. He was big and bossy, just like the rest of ThunderClan.”

“Don’t be rude,” Snowbird chided her daughter softly. “ThunderClan has given us safety and prey when we needed it.”

“And Blossomfall and her kits were fun to play with,” Conekit chirped, his tail swishing.

Though all four cats had put forth their claims on leadership, none would concede that any of the others would make a better leader. Not even Shadow’s wit could devise a way to choose one leader that all would agree on, and not even laid-back River would remove himself from the argument.

Then the spirit cats spoke again, their words bringing the turmoil to an abrupt halt. “Do you not see that the forest has prey enough for you all?” growled one starry tom.

“There is no single way that cats must live,” added a she-cat beside him, her eyes narrowing. “If all of you are determined to lead, then you must make separate homes—but you must do so _peacefully_. Your borders must be clearly marked, so that every cat knows where they may hunt.”

Beside her, another she-cat raised her tail. “Lead with compassion, but remember the importance of strength. This does not mean the end of fighting in the forest, and you must always be prepared to fight to defend your cats.”

One by one the four leaders nodded their agreement, and each departed to find a place where their group of cats could live. From the marsh to the river, from the moors to the trees, each would gather more and more cats to join them.

Before long these groups became something more, something greater. They were not simply friends or allies. They protected the old and the young, the sick and the weak. They shared a common code of honor, and a belief that the spirits of the cats that had gone before would watch over them and guide them.

They had become Clans.

They… 

“... were warriors!” Snowbird finished triumphantly.

Satisfied, she noted that both Conekit and Gullkit’s eyes were nearly shut. The two kits had tucked themselves deep into her belly fur, and would be asleep in a matter of moments. And beside them, her soft tabby fur barely visible, Frondkit was curling up, her tail wrapped over her nose.

But Snowbird could tell the young she-cat was not quite ready to doze off just yet. Something was flickering in the kit’s eyes—a hint of curiosity or wonder.

Laying her head down on the soft moss of the nest, Snowbird gazed sweetly at her daughter. “Is something on your mind, dear?”

Frondkit blinked, then opened her jaws wide in a yawn. “Sort of,” she whispered, her eyelids beginning to droop.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“Okay,” the she-kit murmured. Her mew was barely loud enough to be heard. “Mama…”

“Yes?”

“Where did SkyClan come from?”

* * *

The question haunted her all through the next day.

Where _had_ SkyClan come from? It was a question Snowbird herself hadn’t thought to ask. She’d only learned of the fifth Clan’s existence three days before, when they had arrived at ThunderClan’s camp in one massive patrol—and it felt as though there hadn’t been a peaceful moment in the camp since. Between the nightmare of trying to accommodate multiple Clans into a single camp, and the tension of the Clans’ struggle against Darktail, every cat had seemed to be in a state of perpetual restlessness.

She knew, in a literal sense, _where_ SkyClan had been. Rowanstar had explained the story to all the ShadowClan cats present. Once, they had lived in the old forest with the other four Clans. But many moons ago, he told them, SkyClan was driven out of their home by Twolegs. With nowhere else to go, they left the other Clans behind and eventually dissolved, unable to stay united in the face of the hardships they had suffered.

Then, generations later, the former ThunderClan leader Firestar had received a vision telling him of SkyClan. With his mate, Sandstorm, he had traveled to a far-off place—a gorge—and reunited the scattered descendants of SkyClan’s last warriors. The Clan was whole once more, but they had remained in the gorge, with none of the other Clans knowing of their existence—until now, when Darktail’s rogues had driven them out once more. And so they had come to the lake, at last joined again with the other Clans.

All of this, of course, had been kept secret by ThunderClan for who knew how many moons. Rowanstar had not hid his contempt for that detail, and Snowbird knew there would be little to no disagreement from her Clanmates in ShadowClan—or cats in RiverClan and WindClan, for that matter. _Is any cat surprised?_ she remembered thinking at the time. Despite what she’d told her kits, she found it hard to not be irritated by ThunderClan’s eternal arrogance. _They’d never have shared this with us unless they had no other choice._

But Frondkit’s question wasn’t about recent events. She was asking about the story. Four Clans formed out of the bloody aftermath of the worst battle the forest had ever seen. Shadow, River, Wind, Thunder—or so they’d always been told. So what was missing? Was SkyClan created later, perhaps when cats from one Clan or another decided they’d had enough of their current territory?

Or was the truth even worse?

Had a fifth Clan emerged at the same time as all the others, and been forgotten—erased from the story in shame?

Though she’d only been a young warrior at the time, Snowbird remembered when Firestar had vanished from the forest for a few moons. SkyClan had been rebuilt _in her lifetime_. Which meant there was some chance that other cats still living might know more about it.

Bramblestar had apparently been told about SkyClan directly by Sandstorm herself. But Snowbird was in no mood to ask a leader who had kept this secret from them all. Instead, early in the morning, with the kits still asleep, she slipped out of the nursery to bring her daughter’s question to Rowanstar.

As she’d hoped, he was already awake, conferring with Tigerheart about the trip back to ShadowClan territory. She approached at a leisurely pace, not wanting to interrupt. Before long he caught sight of her and blinked invitingly, amber eyes swirling with interest as he sensed her curiosity.

“Rowanstar,” she began, tail swaying gently. “This isn’t urgent, but—”

He stepped towards her. “No, please. We could use a break. The more I _talk_ about seeing our home again, the more impatient it makes me to actually be there.” With a flick of his ear, he dismissed Tigerheart. The brown tabby padded off towards the warriors’ den.

Snowbird nodded. “Well, then. I’m glad I can be of service.” She paused briefly before broaching the subject. “Did Bramblestar tell you anything about SkyClan’s… origins?”

Her leader twitched his whiskers in confusion. “You mean in the gorge? I thought I explained that Firestar—”

“No,” she interrupted. A chill ran down her spine, and not from the brisk morning air. It felt as though she were about to speak something forbidden, something shameful. “In the forest. Did Bramblestar say if he knew how SkyClan was formed from the very beginning?”

“He didn’t,” Rowanstar frowned. “And I didn’t think to ask. But I got the impression he was telling me everything he knew.”

“I see.”

The dark ginger tom tipped his head. “What prompted this sudden interest?”

“Oh, Frondkit was curious, that’s all.” Snowbird’s pelt burned with an unfamiliar discomfort. She’d mothered nine kits, and was the senior of every warrior in the Clan, as well as Rowanstar himself. She was used to being the one answering questions, rather than asking them. “You know how kits are.” She didn’t want him to know how much the question had captured her own interest as well.

“Of course.” His gaze twinkled. “May I suggest asking one of the medicine cats? It’s possible StarClan has shared more with them.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she murmured. “Thank you, Rowanstar.”

She left her leader in the clearing and headed for the medicine den, then stopped before entering. _Puddleshine… Mothwing… Alderheart…_

There were six medicine cats in camp.

She sat down near the entrance, tucking her paws under her chin, and waited for one of them to emerge. _I’m not having this conversation with an entire patrol._

To her relief, when the brambles rustled a brief while later and a cat stepped through, it was the one she’d been hoping for. “Leafpool!” Snowbird got to her paws and moved to greet the ThunderClan medicine cat.

A look of surprise came over the brown tabby she-cat’s face, but she quickly recovered. “Snowbird! Is there something I can help you with? Are the kits alright?”

“They’re fine,” Snowbird assured her. “Do you mind if we speak privately?”

“Not at all,” the other purred. She turned towards the camp entrance, beckoning Snowbird after her with her tail.

Snowbird let out a sigh of relief. _Imagine if it had been Jayfeather_. She’d already experienced the blind medicine cat’s legendary penchant for crabbiness one too many times during her stay in the ThunderClan camp, and she couldn’t imagine asking for his help with what would surely seem like a trivial issue.

Once the two of them had gone a short distance into the forest, Leafpool turned around, her eyes warm. “Now. What’s the matter?”

“I was wondering what you could tell me about SkyClan,” Snowbird said, her voice neutral. Quickly she explained the details of her question, seeing understanding flash across the smaller she-cat’s face before long.

“Not that I’m not happy to help,” Leafpool said slowly, “But is there a reason you came to me, instead of Puddleshine?”

“Puddleshine… is young,” Snowbird admitted, feeling a hint of regret creep into her mew. “I trust him, of course. But you’re one of the most experienced medicine cats, and…”

“And…?”

“You’re Firestar and Sandstorm’s daughter.”

Slowly Leafpool let out a sigh. “Ah.”

Snowbird waited for the other she-cat to say more. When Leafpool spoke again, her voice was measured and her gaze was lowered. “I understand your reasoning. But I’m afraid my parents never told me, or Squirrelflight, anything about their… expedition. In fact, we weren’t even born until after they returned to ThunderClan.”

Though she tried to hide her disappointment, Snowbird could feel her tail flicking with annoyance. Leafpool must have noticed too, for she added, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help to you. SkyClan’s existence was just as much of a shock for me as I’m sure it was for you and your Clanmates.”

“That’s alright,” Snowbird muttered. Already she was turning to leave. _I shouldn’t have expected more. Of course Firestar wouldn’t even trust his own daughter with the secret._

“I wouldn’t worry about your kits being too disappointed,” Leafpool called from behind her. “They’ll forget about it soon enough.”

Snowbird glanced back, nodding a brief thanks. “I’m sure. I appreciate your time.” _But I’m not giving up just yet._

As she pushed her way back through the ThunderClan camp’s thorn tunnel, taking care not to snag her pelt on the barrier, she resigned herself to her last-resort option. She’d suspected, when she woke up that morning, that Rowanstar and Leafpool might not be able to give her the answers she sought. The third cat on her list, with any luck, would be more informed. But she hadn’t wanted to bother another Clan’s leader unless she’d had no other choice.

Her eyes found her quarry just as she reentered the camp: cream and brown fur, amber eyes, and a shimmering confidence that defied the battered features of the cat’s pelt.

“If you’re not too busy,” Snowbird asked politely, “Could I have a word?”

Leafstar held her gaze evenly. “You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t believe we’ve met. You are…?”

“Snowbird,” she said. “Of ShadowClan.”

A flicker of recognition appeared in the SkyClan leader’s eyes. “Ah! I remember. You helped Tinycloud make her nest in the nursery.”

“Well, my kits helped, too,” Snowbird said modestly, seizing the opportunity to push towards her intended topic of conversation. “They love collecting feathers.”

Her tail relaxing amicably, Leafstar sat down on her hind paws. “Well, then. If there’s something you need of me, I’d be happy to repay you—and your kits—for the assistance. Tinycloud has been so grateful to finally rest in a proper nursery, after so long travelling.”

_Success_. “Actually,” she mewed, “There is. One of my kits was wondering how it was that SkyClan came to be. I thought that perhaps you might…?”

Leafstar frowned. “It was my understanding that all the Clan cats knew the story by now. Firestar, ThunderClan’s old leader—”

“No, no,” Snowbird cut in, wincing that Leafstar had gotten the same false impression as Rowanstar. “I mean before that. When the Clans were first formed. I was telling them the story of the four Clans being created after the first battle at Fourtrees, and Frondkit noticed that SkyClan wasn’t part of it.”

“Intriguing.” Leafstar’s ears twitched. “We don’t have any such story ourselves, in SkyClan. But the answer to your question is fairly simple.”

“Really?” Hope soared in Snowbird’s chest.

“Yes. SkyClan was formed at the same time as the other four Clans. Then, when our ancestors fled the forest, and the other Clans turned their backs on them, your queens wrote SkyClan out of their tales, in shame.” There was no malice in Leafstar’s voice.

It wasn’t the answer she’d been waiting for, and Snowbird tried not to betray how unsatisfying the simple idea was to her. “How do you know this, Leafstar?”

“It only makes sense,” the tabby she-cat said plainly. “Firestar explained to us that the other Clans knew only too well how unjust their betrayal of SkyClan was. So to hide the truth of what they had done from future generations, they forgot SkyClan entirely. Naturally, they would have taken us out of the stories they told their kits.”

“But you don’t actually _know_ what the story was like before?”

“No,” Leafstar said. “I do not.”

Carefully, Snowbird searched for words that would capture the sense of absence she felt. “So you can’t tell me what role, ah… Skystar might have played in the founding of the Clans, for example?”

She could see Leafstar’s pelt starting to prick. “I’m afraid I cannot,” the SkyClan leader said. Her voice had hardened, and her tail lashed ever so slightly. “I don’t have more of an answer for you than that. If you’d like, you could consider creating a role for him in the story yourself, to appease your kits.”

“Thank you,” Snowbird said, swallowing her disappointment. “I may do just that.”

Leafstar nodded with satisfaction. “Good. It would be only fitting. Consider it the righting of a great injustice!”

* * *

A great mist surrounded her on every side. So thick was the fog around her head that Snowbird felt as though she were struggling to cross a deep river. Beneath her paws, she could make out soft tufts of grass, but nothing else. The whole world had fallen away, and all that was left was the mist. Whether it was day or night she could not say.

She was walking, though to where, she did not know. At times she thought she could feel the presence of other cats beside her, matching her pawstep for pawstep, but when she turned to look, the fog was as thick as ever.

An errant thought flitted through her mind. _I’m not very cold._ In a fog this deep, with no sunlight to feel on her pelt, she should have been chilled by the cold, wet air. But her backside was as warm as on a pleasant newleaf morning.

Abruptly the ground beneath her next step sloped downward, and she paused mid-stride. The slope wasn’t steep, but a strange hesitance gripped her—not fear, but something like awe.

Gradually Snowbird became aware of another cat standing at her side, facing the slope just as she did. But she did not turn to look at her companion just yet.

“Are you prepared?” the voice beside her asked.

The response that came to her felt perfectly natural. “I am ready for what you have to show me.”

She sensed the other cat give a nod. “Then look well!”

The fog parted in an instant, and Snowbird gasped.

Stretching out in front of her, at the bottom of the slope, was a massive hollow—one she had not seen in countless moons. Her eyes alighted on the tall oak sitting at the clearing’s edge just below her, and when she noticed its neighbors at the edges of her vision, she did not have to count them. Nor did she peer beyond to see the rock rising from the clearing’s center. She knew it was there.

“This is Fourtrees,” Snowbird whispered, hairs rising all over her pelt. Above, the moon was full, and the stars glimmered beside it in silent brilliance.

She turned to her companion and let her voice ring clearly across the hollow. “This is Fourtrees, and I’m dreaming.”

“Yes,” said the other cat, bending calmly to lick a front paw. She was black as the darkest night, save for the stars that danced through her fur.

“And you are a StarClan cat.”

The cat blinked, her green eyes dazzling like the first shoots of newleaf. “Certainly. Do you know who I am?”

Her paws did not move, but Snowbird could feel herself falter inside. “I am sorry. I do not.”

The StarClan cat nodded again, and began to pad down the slope. “Then follow, and you will see.”

As Snowbird set her paws after the starry cat and walked in silence, she remembered where it was that she had drifted into sleep. She and her kits were back in the ShadowClan nursery at last. _Just as things should be_. Exhausted from their journey that day, the kits had not asked for a story before falling asleep. It had been a relief. She hadn’t wanted to tell Frondkit that she had no answer for her question.

The black she-cat led her to the foot of the Great Rock, then stopped, motioning with her tail that Snowbird should not follow any farther. With swift-footed, nimble movements, she leapt to the top of the rock. Her paws moved with the easy certainty of one who had climbed it many times before. Standing atop the rock’s summit, she raised her head proudly to the night sky, and turned to gaze down at Snowbird.

“Now do you know?” she called.

Somehow, instinctively, she did. The knowledge awoke inside her with warmth and reverence. “Shadowstar,” she breathed. “The first leader of ShadowClan.”

The space around her seemed to grow still as she beheld her Clan’s founder atop the rock. The shape of Shadowstar’s head silhouetted against the stars, the light of the moon gleaming on her pelt, the glow in her eyes as she looked down on a Gathering of one—the scene was frozen before Snowbird’s eyes.

Then the moment passed, and Shadowstar returned to the forest floor in one great leap. “Welcome, Snowbird,” she mewed.

A current of emotion welled up within her stomach. “It is an honor to meet you, Shadowstar,” she managed to whisper. “Why have you brought me here?”

The ancient she-cat padded forward until she was standing just in front of Snowbird. “Because I have a story to tell you, and this is where it must be told.”

“I mean,” Snowbird tried again, feeling the weight of every word in her throat, “Why have you brought _me_ here? I am no medicine cat or Clan leader, only a humble queen.”

She held her breath as Shadowstar regarded her with interest. The StarClan cat’s gaze was fixed directly on her—no, Shadowstar was staring _into_ her.

With a sudden flick of her tail, Shadowstar turned back to the rock. Leisurely, she began to walk towards and around it, pausing as she approached one side. “Come,” she instructed.

Snowbird followed until the two of them had traveled almost half of the distance around the stone. Then Shadowstar stopped and faced her again.

“When we entered the clearing,” she said in a clear voice, “We came from the direction of ShadowClan’s territory. You grew up there, before the Clans left the forest.”

Silently Snowbird nodded.

“And now we are nearest to the moors that WindClan once called home,” Shadowstar said, jerking her muzzle towards the upward slope. “That is the direction from which I entered this hollow on the night of the battle.”

“The night that the Clans were born,” Snowbird said, finding that her voice had returned to her.

Shadowstar craned her neck. “One might say that. Or one might say that they were not truly Clans until much later… or, even, that they had in fact already begun moons before.” Her emerald gaze locked onto Snowbird again. “But if I tried to tell you everything that has ever been said about the birth of the Clans we would never finish talking. You are here to hear one story, and one story only.”

And, despite herself, Snowbird hungered to hear it. “What happened on the night of the battle, Shadowstar?”

The night-black she-cat flexed her claws in and out, as if steeling herself.

Then she began. “Four cats—leaders—met atop the Great Rock on the night of a full moon. Three of us came to talk. One came to make war.”

Snowbird glanced up at the rock beside them, trying to imagine four leaders facing each other down at its summit—a strange inversion of the Gatherings she had experienced here, where the leaders always faced outward, to the crowd.

“Which one?” she asked, eager.

Then she remembered that she wasn’t hearing a nursery tale. _This is what_ really _happened? Then where—_ “Where was the fifth leader?”

Shadowstar’s tail brushed against her shoulder, gently. “As I said. We do not have time for every detail of the past. It is enough, for now, to know that the ones who you call leaders gathered here to discuss territory, and prey.

“But we were not strangers meeting to speak formally. Even in those days, the cats of this land already lived in groups. They had not formed a code, but they knew enough of honor to cherish and protect each other. They shared prey, dens, and more besides.

“Their names were not the ones you are familiar with. I will not burden you with them all, but know that I was called Tall Shadow, and that each of the other cats present atop the rock was my close friend.”

Snowbird’s eyes widened. “The Clan founders… were all allies before the battle?”

“All save the one who came with violence in mind.” Shadowstar’s gaze grew hard.

“Who was it?” Snowbird asked again. For a moment, she dared to form a guess. _Thunderstar?_

“Clear Sky.”

Snowbird’s thoughts whirled, the significance of the name becoming horrifyingly clear to her. Shadowstar nodded and spoke again. “Yes. Skystar, the founder of SkyClan. He was our enemy.”

From the chaos of her thoughts, a single question leapt forward, and before Snowbird could stop herself the words were out of her mouth. “Is _this_ the true reason why the other Clans forced SkyClan to leave? _Revenge?_ ”

“It was Clear Sky who accused other cats of stealing prey,” Shadowstar continued, as though she had not heard. “It was his actions that made cats less willing to trust each other and escalated tensions in the forest. When we arrived at Fourtrees to speak with him, we came alone—but Clear Sky brought many cats, all ready to do battle.

“Even still, we tried to reason with him. But our negotiations failed. Clear Sky commanded his cats to attack, and we all would have perished if not for the arrival of our campmates. _That_ ,” Shadowstar intoned solemnly, “is how the battle began.”

“And it lasted until StarClan spoke to you,” Snowbird ventured. _That part of the story must be right._

The stars in Shadowstar’s own pelt seemed to glow brighter for a moment as she considered Snowbird’s interjection. “Yes, StarClan came to us. That is true. But they did not end the battle,” she mewed. “Clear Sky did that himself.”

“I don’t understand.”

A somber look entered Shadowstar’s gaze. “Many cats lost their lives in the battle. You know this. So you must also know that many cats _killed_ in the battle.” Her breath caught for just a moment. “I was the first to take another’s life. Clear Sky, too, bloodied his claws that night.”

“Who did he kill?” Snowbird whispered.

“A cat he had known since birth.” Every word that emerged from Shadowstar’s muzzle seemed to thrum with the calm of the forest around them. “In anger over her death, Clear Sky’s own littermate attacked him. Their battle drew the attention of every cat in the hollow… and at its end, Clear Sky stood victorious.”

Snowbird heard her own gasp shatter the stillness. “He _killed—_ ”

“No.” Shadowstar said softly. “He didn’t. He couldn’t. And that is how the battle ended—when each side realized they couldn’t go on fighting.”

There was silence for several moments, as Snowbird tried to make her pelt lie flat.

It was a futile attempt. Giving up, she asked, “How… how were the other Clans able to live peacefully alongside SkyClan, after this? Skystar—Clear Sky—how did he earn their trust back?”

Shadowstar twitched her tail. “With some, he never did. Some cats never forgave him. But with others—with most—he worked to show us that his Clan was so much more than his own misdeeds. The same stubbornness and pride that led him to start the battle pushed him even harder to make amends with the other Clans. I think he saw it as one way to redeem himself—to ensure that his legacy was a strong and just SkyClan, one that would give cats prosperous lives for countless seasons to come, and live in peace with its neighbors.

“Which brings us,” she continued, “to your present day. Without the strength and determination passed down from Clear Sky, I am not sure that SkyClan would have been able to endure all the suffering they’ve had to face in these last many moons.

“You asked me why I brought you here, out of all the cats that StarClan could have chosen. This is why: Because SkyClan has returned, and it is time for the Clans to hear new stories. I brought you here so that you could tell your kits the tale of SkyClan.”

Instantly Snowbird recoiled, her claws outstretched with horror. “I can’t!” she gasped. “No matter what else he did later, I can’t tell my kits that the founder of SkyClan was a—a _murderer!_ ”

“I did not say you should tell them _my_ tale,” Shadowstar said calmly. She glanced up at the rock once again. “If raw truth was all that the Clans needed, no kit would ever hear of LionClan’s bravery. There would be no nursery stories of TigerClan’s cunning or LeopardClan’s swiftness.”

The ShadowClan founder stepped forward, touching her muzzle to Snowbird’s cheek briefly. The warm gesture surprised her, and she blinked.

“For all that I accomplished in my nine lives, I never took a mate or bore kits myself,” Shadowstar explained, her expression serene. “And I have no regrets. I devoted myself to building my Clan, and my kin live on in it through my brother’s line.

“You chose differently, and I respect you for that, Snowbird. A Clan cannot thrive without cats to fill _each_ of its roles, and I know that you have carried out your duties as both warrior and queen with immense dedication. I have seen the care with which you raised each of your litters, and I have seen your strength in battle.

“I did not choose your kits to hear the story of SkyClan. I chose _you_ to tell it to them.”

As Shadowstar finished speaking, the mist began to swirl around the two she-cats again, until Snowbird could barely make out the shape of the Great Rock beside them.

“I still don’t understand!” Snowbird called into the fog, her own voice distant. “What do I tell them about SkyClan, if not your story?”

“Haven’t you guessed, Snowbird?” Shadowstar’s voice, echoing back to her, sounded slightly amused. “The story is up to you.”

* * *

“It’s late,” Snowbird said soothingly. “Time for us all to get some sleep.”

Conekit screwed up his face, disappointed. “I’m not tired! None of us are.”

“Nonsense.” Snowbird stroked her tail down the gray-and-white kit’s spine. “Even the warriors have gone to bed by now.”

Her fluffy tail swishing excitedly, Gullkit hopped into the nest and stared up at her mother. “Can we at least hear a story, first?”

“Hmm,” Snowbird purred, pretending to consider the question. “What kind of story would you all like?”

Frondkit’s muzzle opened in an eager mew. “Tell us about how the Clans were started!”

“Which Clans?” Snowbird asked in mock confusion.

The three kits turned towards each other, eyes round with silent exhilaration. Then, as one, they turned back to face her.

“ _All_ the Clans!”

Snowbird curled tightly around them, feeling the purrs emanating from their soft bodies. The kits’ excitement was irresistible—and almost as strong as her own.

This is the story she told.

Long ago, before the Clans were threatened by Darktail, before the tallest trees of the forest had begun to take root, so long ago that even to StarClan, the memory is a dream… the cats of the forest were called to a meeting.

These cats were not warriors. They did not live according to a code. Their dens were shared with kin and what few others they cared for; they hunted in much the same way. Cats fought with those they did not trust, and avoided those they did not know. None of them had ever known another way to live.

Yet the meeting promised to change this. Cats who attended, it was said, would be told of new ideas, new ways that would lead to a better life, where no cat ever went hungry or had to fight for prey. Eagerly, curiously, the cats of the forest came, and on the night of a full moon they gathered beneath four great oaks to listen.

But the meeting did not go as planned. Yowls of anger and accusation rang out, and soon claws were unsheathed. Before any cat could pause to think… battle had begun. To some, the fighting lasted for moons—for others, it was over far too quickly. When at last the clearing fell silent, many dead lay scattered about like pieces of prey.

None of the survivors knew what to do next. Many had lost kin, and all had lost friends. Few had ever killed another cat before. This carnage was not the reason they had come. A better life seemed almost insulting, now, when so much life had been lost.

Before their eyes, the fur on the pelts of their fallen comrades began to shimmer and glow. Like vague shapes glimpsed through mist, the dead cats arose, one by one, in star-pelted form. Their fur bore none of the claw-marks of the battle that had taken their lives, and though they spoke with stern wisdom, there was no anger in their voices.

“Unite or die,” the spirit-cats said. “If a better life is what you seek, you must find it without further bloodshed.”

The living cats believed they understood. Surrounded by the bodies and spirits of those they had known, they sought for a path forward that all would agree on. One cat, her pelt black as the night sky above, stepped forward.

“I am called Shadow,” she said, “because my stealth and cunning are equal to none! These are the qualities that set cats apart from all other animals. Follow me, and let no cat worry about catching prey again—for no prey will see us, hidden in the darkness.”

Shaking his head, a silver tabby separated from the crowd to stand beside her. “River is my name. I am as steady and patient as the waters that give the forest life—and like the waters, I am not easily moved to anger.” His eyes glowed with moonlight. “Why should cats fight over prey when the rivers teem with fish enough to feed us all? Join me, and the currents of our lives will be peaceful.”

Quickly two more cats joined them, each with their own ideas. “You waste time talking about _how_ to hunt when every cat could be chasing down prey already,” scoffed the first, a brown tabby she-cat. “I am Wind. I will show you that speed is all a cat needs to thrive.”

“But speed alone does not bring survival,” boomed a large ginger tom. “Neither does stealth, nor placidity. My name is Thunder, and I will make every cat strong enough to endure any hardship.”

Each of the four cats faced the others with certainty and resolve. All four were convinced that theirs was the best way for cats to live. None would submit to the methods of any of the others. Shadow was untrustworthy, River was lethargic, Wind was hasty, Thunder was self-righteous—or so each seemed to their rivals.

Into their midst stepped another. The fifth cat’s pelt was a pale gray, and with a start the others recognized him. It was the cat who had called the meeting.

The cat lifted his muzzle, his gaze meeting each of the others’ in turn. They saw that his eyes, as clear blue as an early morning, were filled with regret. “All this is my fault,” he said. “Every wound on our pelts, every gouge carved into the earth by our claws. Every fallen body lying in this clearing. All I wanted was to improve cats’ lives—and instead I have ended them.”

Silently the cats considered his words. They knew that by insisting on their own ways above all others, they only risked perpetuating the conflict that had already cost them so much.

A breeze swept through the clearing, and the living cats looked up to see some of the spirit-cats gathered atop a massive rock. One of them, his starry pelt nestled closely among the others, spoke gently.

“And what was this plan of yours, that it was important enough to warrant such a large gathering?”

“I imagined a place for every cat,” the gray tom said softly. “I dreamed that no cat would need to worry about where to hunt. I saw a world where fighting over prey had ended.” His mew still pulsed with sorrow, but there was no mistaking the confidence beneath it. “I believed that we should draw borders, marking each part of the forest as territory for a different group, so that every cat could be secure in knowing where to find prey.”

Slowly a light entered each of the other four cats’ eyes. One by one—Wind, Shadow, River, Thunder—they nodded. Then all looked up at the spirit-cats once more.

“Do you see?” called a starry she-cat. “None of you is wrong, and each of you is right. There is no single way that cats must live. If each of you is determined to lead—and if each of you wishes to prevent further bloodshed—then you know what you must do.”

Thunder spoke. “We will form into separate groups.”

“We will mark our borders, so that every cat knows where they may hunt,” added River.

“The forest will be divided into four territories,” mewed Wind.

“No,” Shadow said. “There will be five.” Turning to the gray tom, she asked, “What is your name?”

“I believe that cats should always strive for something more,” the tom said. The light of the other four began to glow in his eyes as well. “My name is Sky. I leap between the branches of the tallest trees—I reach as high as I can.”

Another star-pelted cat opened his jaws at Sky’s words. “When one reaches too far, they may find that more than prey escapes their grasp. But it is better to have struggled for one’s dreams than to bury them unborn.”

Beside him, one last spirit-cat raised her tail. “Lead with compassion and wisdom, each of you. And remember the importance of strength. This does not mean the end of fighting in the forest, and you must always be prepared to defend your cats.”

One by one the five leaders nodded their agreement, and each departed to find a place where their cats could live. From one corner of the forest to another, in hidden hollows and warm dens, each would gather more and more cats to join them—and in doing so, they would strengthen the borders that Sky foresaw, ensuring that each group would grow and prosper.

Over time, the bonds of loyalty between the cats in these groups grew into something more, something greater. They became more than simply friends or allies. They shared a common code of honor, and the knowledge that those cats who had gone before would watch over and guide them.

They were warriors. No matter what future struggles they faced, the bonds between them—the differences they shared—would draw them all together again. Forevermore—separate, but united—they were Clans.

Five Clans, standing together as one.

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea I had.
> 
> I've always loved the mythos presented in Secrets of the Clans. It's an entirely inaccurate portrayal of the battle as we see it in DotC, and I think that's fascinating. Of course the Clans would have histories that blur the truth about what happened. Of course they wouldn't remember that Shadow and Thunder were friends, that River wasn't part of the First Battle, that WindClan was the first Clan.
> 
> Of course they wouldn't want to tell their kits what Clear Sky did. I mean, god.
> 
> But they have to tell them *something*. So this was my attempt at that. Plus it was an excuse to write a story with Snowbird as the protagonist—though it's not about her, and it's not about ShadowClan, even though I did take the opportunity to sneak in some Frondkit content as well. It's a story about the founders and their legacy. The original story in Secrets of the Clans is called "History of the Clans," but it's not a history, it's a myth. So it goes for this story as well. It's the "History" of the Fifth Clan.


End file.
